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Chapter 8
Learning or murder?
“Miss Lorean and Miss Jenkins, keep it down!” Our teacher barked.
Jess rolled her eyes. “It’s Mrs. Jenkins, sir.”
The class exploded into giggles, and I could’ve sworn Mr. Hiat cracked a smile before smoothing it into an annoyed frown. “Is that so?”
Jess nodded, batting her eyelashes. I tried to contain my giggles as she stood up and flashed us a ring. “It is baby!”
The whole class cheered and started clapping, Jess did a little bow and then sashayed back to our desk. I was grinning so widely.
“Insane!”
“You know it,” Jess blew a kiss to the whole gawking class.
After that weird outburst, we started to settle down and actually work. My happiness from earlier deflated and I remembered the information I had learned in the past few days.
My older sister, who I adored, who I wanted to be like, who everyone thought was perfect.
Wasn’t that perfect at all.
I felt my mind straying from our hopeless assignment that was given to us, we were nearly done. But why should schoolwork matter? My sister was murdered, killed. And I have to make this replica of a house that was burned down years ago, when I could be solving Dorothy’s murder.
I thought of the boat, of the prank Rob described, I remember hearing that in the paper. We knew it was the prank, and we sympathized the girl, but we knew she should’ve kept her guard up. I mean, it has to a bit a strange, of a group of people being invited to a really popular party out of nowhere.
“They were partying on that yacht, I bet you they were drinking”. My sister doesn’t drink, she couldn’t, wouldn’t.
“When they did something it would usually lead to calling the police, extreme pranksters they were”. My sister scoffs at those people.
“Then they pushed some kid in the water, and she started freaking out because she saw the alligator”. My sister wouldn’t want to harm anyone.
I remember exactly what she said to me before she left, she had looked excited and she gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me she loved me about one hundred times. Dorothy was nervous too.
What did they do to her? What did Dorothy do? I heard the distinctive sound of a door slamming, a scream, yelling. As seconds passed the noise grew louder and louder, I thought I heard someone call my name. But before I could respond I was standing on a boat, loud music poured out of it, blasting my eardrums. People were entering, looking proud pleased, and popular. But they soon were going to get the shock of their life.
“It’s all set right?” I whipped around to see Dorothy in a cute mini blue dress, whispering nervously to a stunning brunette.
“Everything’s in perfect motion,” she said smoothly, a twisted edge in her eyes as she smiled and waved at her guests.
Dorothy grinned to, fingering a necklace as she threw a quick glance to the water. “Everything’s ready to go down.”
I felt myself deflate at the impending doom that was to be bestowed on these kids, the evidence that proved my sister was a part of this.
Let the prank commence.
Chapter 8
Learning or murder?
“Miss Lorean and Miss Jenkins, keep it down!” Our teacher barked.
Jess rolled her eyes. “It’s Mrs. Jenkins, sir.”
The class exploded into giggles, and I could’ve sworn Mr. Hiat cracked a smile before smoothing it into an annoyed frown. “Is that so?”
Jess nodded, batting her eyelashes. I tried to contain my giggles as she stood up and flashed us a ring. “It is baby!”
The whole class cheered and started clapping, Jess did a little bow and then sashayed back to our desk. I was grinning so widely.
“Insane!”
“You know it,” Jess blew a kiss to the whole gawking class.
After that weird outburst, we started to settle down and actually work. My happiness from earlier deflated and I remembered the information I had learned in the past few days.
My older sister, who I adored, who I wanted to be like, who everyone thought was perfect.
Wasn’t that perfect at all.
I felt my mind straying from our hopeless assignment that was given to us, we were nearly done. But why should schoolwork matter? My sister was murdered, killed. And I have to make this replica of a house that was burned down years ago, when I could be solving Dorothy’s murder.
I thought of the boat, of the prank Rob described, I remember hearing that in the paper. We knew it was the prank, and we sympathized the girl, but we knew she should’ve kept her guard up. I mean, it has to a bit a strange, of a group of people being invited to a really popular party out of nowhere.
“They were partying on that yacht, I bet you they were drinking”. My sister doesn’t drink, she couldn’t, wouldn’t.
“When they did something it would usually lead to calling the police, extreme pranksters they were”. My sister scoffs at those people.
“Then they pushed some kid in the water, and she started freaking out because she saw the alligator”. My sister wouldn’t want to harm anyone.
I remember exactly what she said to me before she left, she had looked excited and she gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me she loved me about one hundred times. Dorothy was nervous too.
What did they do to her? What did Dorothy do? I heard the distinctive sound of a door slamming, a scream, yelling. As seconds passed the noise grew louder and louder, I thought I heard someone call my name. But before I could respond I was standing on a boat, loud music poured out of it, blasting my eardrums. People were entering, looking proud pleased, and popular. But they soon were going to get the shock of their life.
“It’s all set right?” I whipped around to see Dorothy in a cute mini blue dress, whispering nervously to a stunning brunette.
“Everything’s in perfect motion,” she said smoothly, a twisted edge in her eyes as she smiled and waved at her guests.
Dorothy grinned to, fingering a necklace as she threw a quick glance to the water. “Everything’s ready to go down.”
I felt myself deflate at the impending doom that was to be bestowed on these kids, the evidence that proved my sister was a part of this.
Let the prank commence.
I write what i feel and try to
make them seem so-real to
you, but all you want from me
is honesty.
as i write out the facts
you act like you don't really
care where my heart truly is.
Let me tell you where it
is, it's in the honesty of my
poetry, deep inside my heart
it's the only thing that reveals
the emotions deep down inside
my soul.
as i hold onto the emotions
that creates honest poetry
that i write, i see you looking
at my private diaries understanding
who i want to be.
you look at me and you
seem to know what i'm
feeling as i'm revealing
to you the emotions that
comes from within my
soul.
as i hold the key to this
honest poetry that i compose
you seem to believe every-little
detail that i have to say to you.
make them seem so-real to
you, but all you want from me
is honesty.
as i write out the facts
you act like you don't really
care where my heart truly is.
Let me tell you where it
is, it's in the honesty of my
poetry, deep inside my heart
it's the only thing that reveals
the emotions deep down inside
my soul.
as i hold onto the emotions
that creates honest poetry
that i write, i see you looking
at my private diaries understanding
who i want to be.
you look at me and you
seem to know what i'm
feeling as i'm revealing
to you the emotions that
comes from within my
soul.
as i hold the key to this
honest poetry that i compose
you seem to believe every-little
detail that i have to say to you.